Zoological Society, such were among the events I could recal as having suggested feastful rejoicings. But that to which I have now to refer was to be regarded as a private and peculiar gathering, almost, in point of fact, a corporate family-feed, comprising no more than ninety-five guests, selected with discrimination, for the purpose of testing the merits of a new headcook. Thus it had rather the nature of a grave and dispassionate deliberation than of a dinner, a certain sense of responsibility toning down the exuberant mirth that usually waited on these pleasant assemblies. There were to be no speeches, no music. The usual loyal toasts, no more. Above all, no ladies. The presence of beauty, chatting in the gallery, might haply distract the attention of the weaker brethren from the great object of the meeting.

The Lumpeters were particular-and a thought conservative-in matters of attire. They themselves, to a man, adhered to the fashion, moribund, but not defunct, of ankle-buttoned pantaloons, figured - silk stockings, buckled shoes, expansive white waistcoats, and the mighty cravat patronised by his late majesty, the fourth George. It was well understood that the adoption of a similar costume on the part of their guests would be interpreted by Lumpeters as the most delicate return that could be offered for their hospitality. I, myself, invariably sported the fancy dress in question. On the eventful day I have mentioned, it happened that I had been detained at chambers later than usual, and on reaching home had barely time to dress. While doing so, I received an anxious message from a friend who was to have accompanied me to the banquet, but who, being late, and himself a stranger to the guild, begged me to secure for him a seat next my own.

With increased expedition I finished my toilet, and the dining-hall being but five minutes' walk from my residence, I quickly buttoned on a pair of rough overalls, threw on my cloak, and hurried to the spot.

To my astonishment, a crowd, dense and still augmenting, was gathered about the door. It was only through the aid of a friendly policeman that I was enabled to make my way. "What was the matter ?" I inquired of Number Nineteen B. The answer, half drowned in the clatter of arriving carriages, sounded something like "furrin swell.' "Who?" Number Nineteen forbore to trust his lips with the name; but it were him as kills the wild beastesses out in Afrikey. It was a more intelligent porter who presently announced to me that the

renowned French lion-slayer, the Baron Bobadil de Bête-Fauve, had, at the last moment, accepted an invitation to dine at Lumpeters' Hall.

The character of the assembly had undergone a change. Not only had a little reinforcement of a hundred and twenty guests been hastily invited, but a dense mass of spectators lined the hall, the passages, and the ante-chamber, and even frothed over into the banqueting-room itself, the spacious gallery of which was already filled with ladies, whom the chivalrous guild had found it impossible to dream of excluding.

I was late; but dinner had been deferred half an hour. There would be just time to rush into the room, secure my friend's seat, and then deposit my cloak and overalls in the room devoted to such purposes.

The former matter was quickly ar ranged, and I was darting back, when I was met by a rush and pressure that almost forced me behind an adjacent screen. Baron de Bête-Fauve had arrived, and was being triumphantly marched into the hall.

The

The Baron Bobadil de Bête-Fauve, when visible, proved to be a remarkably small gentleman, with intensely black eyes and moustaches, the latter curling fiercely up almost into the former; but my own situation demanded all my attention. Withdraw I could not. To sit down in that highly-attired society in light brown overalls, such as might be worn by a stableman, was not to be thought of. Ah! an idea. Just within the door, near the wall, but with space to get behind it, stood the large screen against which I had been pressed. Capturing a waiter, I drew him with me into that friendly shelter.

66

Here, help, my man. Can't get back. Just let me slip off these confoundedhurry, now- I gasped, and tore the buttons loose with lightning speed. "All right, sir."

The waiter was as quick as I, and scarcely gave me time to disengage the last button, before he caught away the garment, and bundling it up, vanished in the crowd.

"Eh! hillo! stop, you! Good Heano-it's impossible! And yet-mercy on us-what shall I do ?"

A horrible fact had revealed itself. In making my hurried toilet, I had actually buttoned on my overalls omitting my black dress-pantaloons!

-

What was to become of me? Garments, indeed, were there garments even too ample and obtrusive. I had worn while dressing a pair of wide but shortish trousers once used in a Chinese burlesque, written

by my friend Skelton for the delectation of a private circle, and which, being intended for that occasion only, were adorned with devices grotesque and terror-striking, represented in colours crimson, green, and blue. And these abominable trousers I had brought with me to Lumpeter's Hall!

A chill shot through me as I realised the full extent of the misadventure. I staggered back faintly against the wall, and endeavoured to collect myself. Glancing round the corner of the screen, I observed, with a shudder, that the company were taking their places, while the ladies in the gallery had risen, en masse, and were directing so concentrated a fire of eyes upon the entrance, where the valiant lion-queller had paused to return the salute that greeted him, that to escape had become impossible. I must remain where I was, till able to concert with some compassionate attendant a plan of escape.

There was the settling murmur and buzz, the "Gentlemen, pray silence. For grace!" and the "Stand still, waiters!" in a voice of authority. Grace followed, and the noise of feasting; but the next intelligible words froze my very soul.

"Remove that screen!"

Instinctively I clutched and held it back. There came a violent tug; but there was too much at stake for a feeble defence, and I held on with desperate tenacity.

"Quick, now, with that screen!" said the voice of authority. "What's the matter ?" "There's a gent, be'ind, a-'olding of it back," said some officious booby.

Here-you!" I gasped. "Five shillings! Ten! Twenty Five pounds! Fetch-brown overalls! Forgot trouLet the screen alone, can't ye?"

"Bless my 'eart, sir! 'Ere is a go!" said a waiter, grinning, but compassionate, for he had recognised me, even thus.

"Take that thing out of the way!" roared the voice of authority.

"Must do it, sir," explained the waiter. "The heatables can't come by. Stop! There's a wacant seat. "Taint three steps off."

"That's mine," I groaned. "'Ow lucky! Now just you slip into it as I shifts the screen, so's to purtect you. Tuck the table-kiver well into your weskit, and nobody'll be the wiser. One, two, three. Hoff you go!"

Off it was necessary to go, for he caught away my defences, but extended the folding arms of the screen, so as nearly to touch the vacant scat. In that instant, how I hardly knew, I found myself fairly

seated at the board, the friend who should have accompanied me at my side.

"You take it coolly, old fellow," remarked the latter. “I fancied that at these dinners punctuality

"I take it coolly, very coolly," I replied. "And it is for your sake I am doing so. May I ask you to spare me as much adjacent table-cloth as is compatible with your personal convenience?"

"Table-cloth! Assuredly. But why?" "There are reasons, hidden reasons. But of that hereafter. A glass of wine ?"

"My friend is agitated. His manly fingers quiver. Something is amiss with Charteris," remarked my companion, in the sepulchral tone he is given to use when chaffing those he loves.

Dicky Skelton, who never, so far as it is ascertained, had a relative in the world, dresses always in the deepest mourning. He never laughs, outwardly. He is mirth itself, within. He has written burlesques by the score. To Skelton is due the evisceration of words that have baffled the skill of the most accomplished tormentors of the English language.

"My friend, confide in me," continued Dick, smacking his lips, for the Lumpeter Burgundy is not to be tasted every day. "You are ill at ease."

"At the knees. A trifle."

"To remember one's troubles in such a scene is weak."

"To forget one's trousers is madness," I whispered, with clenched teeth, in his ear. "One's!" ejaculated Skelton, faintly, as he turned upon me a countenance naturally wan and lengthy, but now whitened and elongated with real alarm. "Youdon't meanDo I distinctly understand- .?"

"You understand my reason for requir ing as large a portion of the table-cloth as you can conveniently spare."

it

"Now this is very noteworthy, yes, is really curious," remarked Mr. Skelton, with more interest than sympathy. "I do not remember having ever met with a precisely similar situation. A man may, iudeed, forget an essential garment. The mind cannot always be dwelling on these outward things. But has he no friend? Wife, servant, grandmother? Is there no hand to bar his exit, no tongue to say, 'My dear, my very dear sir, return, reflect. Consult, if not prevailing fashions, at least that warmth and comfort as needful to man as his daily food?' Did none do this?"

I shook my head, and briefly recounted the cause and manner of my misfortune.

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My friend gazed at me sorrowfully: 'So fair above!" he murmured. "Sowell, so singular below! Who now, in this brilliant assembly-graced, as I perceive, with the presence of many beautiful (and giggling) women-would imagine that you, sitting here so well got up, radiant with artificial mirth, are a type of Milton's Sin ?" I replied, curtly, that I accepted the situation, as he was pleased to term it, with the calmness that seemed expedient, and that having done all that man could do, I awaited the decrees of fate, and the arrival of the waiter, to whom I had offered a sovereign to smuggle in my overalls, at the first opportune moment.

"Awfully lucky for you, my boy, there's to be no speech-making!" continued Skel"We would have had you on your defenceless legs in no time."

ton.

"Have you seen the toast-list, gentlemen?" asked a portly member of the guild, on my left, as he politely offered a

card.

There was a catalogue of at least twenty toasts, with names appended as proposers; and, as proposing that of the guest of the evening, the Baron de Bête-Fauve, "Mr. Reginald Charteris!"

in

At the same moment a note was placed my hand. It was from the chairman.

Oblige us. We know your ready eloquence. Baron struck with your face and manner. Wishes to hear you speak. Touch up the lions."

Snatching out my pencil-case I wrote: "Throat impracticable. Uvula cut off this morning. Should create more astonishment than interest if forced upon my legs."

I breathed. That peril was averted. My spirits rose as the merry feast proceeded, and I began to see more distinctly the humorous side of my little misadventure. The atmosphere was warm and pleasant. Why, I had been present at many a dinner in the north where men dined, from preference, without their-that is, in kilts. True, I had not exactly a kilt; but, even were I compelled to stand forth from my present retirement, the exhibition of knee, the publication of calf, would be no greater than is legally sanctioned within five hundred miles of this spot.

Ha! a sensation. "Pray silence," &c. Grace. "Non nobis." Then the usual loyal toasts, and we drank prosperity to several collateral branches of the reigning house (the Lumpeters were nothing if not loyal), before we arrived at the great toast of the evening-the Baron de Bête-Fauve. This was given by the chairman himself; and,

"So long as it is not intended for my humble person, I replied, with an easy smile, "I am perfectly

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Charteris," said the voice of the head-steward, who, followed by two attendant waiters, had approached us unobserved. "The chair, sir, presents his compliments, and begs you will do him and the Baron de Bête-Fauve the favour to occupy the seat that has been placed for you between them."

My heart stood still. My hair rose. A chill of horror shot through me.

“The baron, sir, speaks no English, and though him and the chair has been hard at it all dinner, neither of 'em has understood a word," said the steward, confidentially. "The chair, sir, and the company generally," added Mr. Feastful, with poetic exaggeration, "would 'ail with pleasure the spectacle of your introduction to the baron."

"The baron be

I know not what I was about to say. My voice faltered. I had caught a glimpse of the fair occupants of the gallery, leaning over the balustrade in their eagerness to examine the favoured individual for whom the chair of state had been so ostentatiously prepared, and a vision of myself marching up the hall, clad in my abominable burlesque Chinese trousers, the mark of every eye, almost made me reel in my chair.

I shuddered, strove to speak, conceived a wild thought of diving under the table, when, whish! with a lurid, fitful swirl, out went the enormous lustre, with all the minor lights following suit. We were in total darkness.

I will not describe the confusion that szcceeded, the screams of laughter from the gallery, the scramble and the crash below. Torches gleamed in the doorways almost before we knew what had happened, and the accident that had occasioned the sudden extinction of our light was remedied within a few minutes.

But, when order was restored, one chair stood vacant at that hospitable board! Whether its occupant had been trampled

under foot in the disorder, or had vanished with the light, was never known. My private opinion is that, while anxious inquiries were being made in the Lumpeters' Hall, the missing gentleman was warming his legs at his domestic hearth, sipping his grog, and smiling at the peril he had so narrowly escaped.

CASTAWAY.

BY THE AUTHOR OF "BLACK SHEEP,' ""WRECKED IN PORT," &c. &c.

BOOK III.

CHAPTER V. THE NEXT DAY.

MR. DRAGE, Smoking a sedative pipe in the rectory garden after breakfast the next morning, pondering over his strange interview with Philip Vane, and wondering when and how he should hear of its result, was startled from his reverie by the clanging of the bell, and looking up saw Mrs. Pickering at the gate. This visit was not unexpected, nor, truth to tell, had it been contemplated without alarm. The rector felt tolerably certain that Mrs. Pickering would come to tell him how matters had progressed at Wheatcroft, during the stay of the strangers from London; but it was by no means certain that he himself might not have been seen in colloquy with Vane by some of the servants on the premises, or even by the housekeeper herself, and that the reason for and the result of that colloquy might be demanded of him. To be sure, he argued with himself, he had informed Mrs. Pickering of his determination of some time or other seeking an interview with her husband on her behalf, and had obtained her consent, however unwilling it was given; but he confessed to himself that Mrs. Pickering had looked upon his declared intention of seeking that interview as vague and remote, and would probably resent his having availed himself of the first opportunity which presented itself without further communication with her on the subject.

There, however, she was at the garden gate, and, whatever happened, she must not be kept waiting. So Mr. Drage hurried down the path and gave her admittance, bidding her good morning, with that strange mixture of earnestness and nervousness which always characterised his communications with Mrs. Pickering.

"Well, now tell me about your guests," said he, after the ordinary salutation. "They arrived according to promise. They stayed with you, and

"Yes; he accorded it at once, and nothing could have worked better. Mr. Vane and his friend were in the house nearly four-and-twenty hours, and during the whole of that time they neither of them caught sight of me."

"The other man might have seen you without any danger to yourself, I suppose ?"

"I am not so sure of that. This Mr. Delabole is a man who followed us one day from the theatre at Wexeter, and seemed to take particular notice of us. By the way, what could have brought him to Wexeter at that time, I wonder? It was certainly the same man; I recognised his figure."

"Indeed! Then, though unseen yourself, you managed to see them ?"

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Scarcely to see them. Some time after dinner, when it was quite dusk, they went into the garden to smoke, and strolled up and down the little side path leading to the stables, which is immediately under my window. My attention was attracted to them by hearing Philip's well-remembered short sarcastic laugh. Then I peered out cautiously once or twice, and perceived them moving about in the gloom. There was not light enough for me to see their features, but I recognised the other man's square, thick-set figure, and Philip's swinging walk."

"You heard Mr. Vane laugh ?" asked the rector, somewhat anxiously. "He must have been amused; I conclude things must have been going well."

"It was by no means that kind of laugh," replied Madge, "but one which I have heard too often not to recognise its meaning-short, hard, and sarcastic. Besides, though I could not distinguish the words they uttered, I could hear the tone in which they spoke, and my impression was that they were using anything but pleasant language to each other."

"That looks as though they had not been able to carry through the business which brought them down here," said the rector.

"I do not fancy matters went quite as smoothly as they anticipated," said Madge. "I spoke to Sir Geoffry just before coming out. He told me he had informed those gentlemen that he was not prepared to give